[ When her feet begin to leave the ground, Hilda's first instinct is to flinch away. She had done such an awful job of committing to the things she had said she was going to do and it annoys her that her resolve is so weak. Being touched by Sylvain, nevermind held by him, feels counterproductive to that. But the brief hold is enough to nudge some of the tension she's been holding in her body since she had arrived back in the loft that day.
It does not however dispel the hurt and she can't bring herself to relax into Sylvain's lap. In fact, once he's seated she slips off onto the bed leaving space between them and refuses to meet his eyes even when he tugs at her hair. Reaching for empathy when she had been angry as she had at Claude also felt like conceding. The angry creature that had clawed its way up her throat hadn't cared what feelings were hurt in the process of its rampage. ]
I find it hard to believe that after seven months of being here he never found a good time to tell me. [ Briefly, anger flares in her voice. She'd never had a monopoly on his time, but they'd had moments alone together. They could have spoken about it then. ] And so what if we're not through the war yet? Isn't that what friends are there for? To share that burden? And don't we deserve to know?
[ The knowledge that both she and Sylvain had died in another timeline, that she could very well still meet the same fate should she return to Fodlan tomorrow hangs heavy in the air. Just because some version of her was still alive in Claude's timeline didn't mean that she would remain alive if she returned tomorrow. Talking about it only serves to dredge up remnants of the emotions that had never really left like hurt. Like jealousy. ]
Something was different between us. You know he didn't even contact me when you two were first taken? He contacted Petra first. Which is fine - she's capable and strong and could have found you two if it was just being lost in the desert but he didn't even contact me until later. And if it was him not wanting him to be my friend, he should have told me too. [ Her voice catches but she pushes on. ] I would have just lived somewhere else sooner.
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It does not however dispel the hurt and she can't bring herself to relax into Sylvain's lap. In fact, once he's seated she slips off onto the bed leaving space between them and refuses to meet his eyes even when he tugs at her hair. Reaching for empathy when she had been angry as she had at Claude also felt like conceding. The angry creature that had clawed its way up her throat hadn't cared what feelings were hurt in the process of its rampage. ]
I find it hard to believe that after seven months of being here he never found a good time to tell me. [ Briefly, anger flares in her voice. She'd never had a monopoly on his time, but they'd had moments alone together. They could have spoken about it then. ] And so what if we're not through the war yet? Isn't that what friends are there for? To share that burden? And don't we deserve to know?
[ The knowledge that both she and Sylvain had died in another timeline, that she could very well still meet the same fate should she return to Fodlan tomorrow hangs heavy in the air. Just because some version of her was still alive in Claude's timeline didn't mean that she would remain alive if she returned tomorrow. Talking about it only serves to dredge up remnants of the emotions that had never really left like hurt. Like jealousy. ]
Something was different between us. You know he didn't even contact me when you two were first taken? He contacted Petra first. Which is fine - she's capable and strong and could have found you two if it was just being lost in the desert but he didn't even contact me until later. And if it was him not wanting him to be my friend, he should have told me too. [ Her voice catches but she pushes on. ] I would have just lived somewhere else sooner.